


Young Lightning

by flagpoles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, DNF, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flagpoles/pseuds/flagpoles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you didn’t hear this from me, but Lily Evans and James Potter are writing songs together in the middle of the night. </p><p>or: THE ROCK BAND AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Happened Before

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* THANK GOD this is finally up, *sighs again because multi-chap rock band AUs are v stressful*
> 
> This one's for Andy, who may just be the best beta in the whole world. also ily v much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How everyone knows each other, or, we find out the various ways everyone hates everyone else.

_Because I can't love you like this anymore,_

_I am drowning_

_and you like watching me do so._

(Written by Marlene McKinnon, with eyeliner on the bathroom wall)

 

***

Two of the biggest bands in music history have been tasked with making a collaboration album in three months and the world is losing its shit.

 

First, let me set the scene. Lily Evans is sitting in her bra and fiddling with a broken knob from the sound system on the couch, next to Mary MacDonald (also shirtless) who is painting her nails black and leaning against Evans for support. Marlene McKinnon (who never has a shirt on, I'm told) is sighing and blatantly ignoring the 'no smoking' sign as she blows grey swirling smoke into Potter's face. James Potter, evidently used to this, is watching Remus Lupin and Sirius Black playing chess on the floor with interest. Black is losing horrifically, though his expression is one of someone who is not bothered in the slightest. Instead he grabs McKinnon's cigarette, knocks his king over and squeezes himself on the couch in between Potter and McKinnon. Lupin is left on the floor and leans against Potter's legs as McKinnon scowls and snatches her cigarette back from Black, swearing at him under her breath.

 

It's hard to imagine a time when they weren't all together in this very studio, on this pitifully hot day on this horrendously ugly couch but, of course, it wasn't always like this.

 

***

The Marauders started as four teenagers, two guitars and a boarding school that left the band rooms unlocked at night.

 

James Potter has been playing music since he was seven and hearing it since before he could walk. His parents produced music for the The Whomping Willows, Three Broomsticks and Bertie Bott before retiring in their early fifties to have Potter himself.

 

"I met Bathila Bagshot once," he states proudly when I bring up his musical background, referring to the rock princess of years gone by who sang the number one hits of the forties, 'The History of Magic is with You and Me' and 'I am a Fucking Snake'.

 

Potter says he just knew he wanted to be a rock singer when he was eleven.

"Precisely the age he met me," cuts in Black, "he knew when he saw me, that our music would be legendary." Black is then promptly shoved off the crowded couch by McKinnon for interrupting. I have noticed after being here only minutes that McKinnon takes no bullshit. Black, unfortunately, is full of bullshit, and so steals her cigarette as payback.

 

However, Black does have a point. Because at twelve, you couldn't find better friends than in James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. You also couldn't find people so incredibly different and yet so alike. Potter, with the famous tussled hair and wide smirk, his singing voice has often been compared to what it sounds like when God talks ("Don't put that in," hurriedly cuts in Evans,"Potter can't talk up his own voice, that's cheating!"). He is exactly what you think a rock singer should be. Confident, with a lean, lazy cat smile and perfect hipbones fitted in black skinny jeans.

 

On the other hand, guitar player Sirius Black is a different matter all together. Raised in an ancient English household by strictly anti-rock parents — it's a wonder he turned out like he did, but _God,_ is everyone glad. Black really is the definition of cool; an aura of easy confidence leaks out of his very blood whenever he plays his guitar. His hair once started a riot in the middle of a show in Dublin and entire corners of the Internet are dedicated to the way he sits down, a sort of flopping onto the chair in the easiest way possible.

"[My] Parents are fuckin' arseholes," says Black, something close to a shadow briefly crossing his face. "Mum was a right piece of work and never liked the whole music thing. Same with my Dad. Prong's parents, however," — here he grins and suddenly, I can see why he was voted 'Sexiest Man Alive' by People magazine — "loved the music. I moved in with them when I was sixteen." And he's right. Black had moved out of his supposedly abusive home by sixteen and was in with Potter, who loudly claims that Black was "The worst roommate ever, 'cause he never cleaned. But he knew how to get good booze, so I had to let him stay."

Remus Lupin (who plays bass) was bitten by a rabid wolf when he was just five years old at a meet-in-greet session with the animals at Honeydukes Park Zoo. To this day, he has a nasty scar covering his whole upper left forearm and has to be examined by doctors every three months for the rest of his life. "The disease that the. . . animal had, it — it reacts very badly with human blood. If it wasn't for recent developments in modern scientific medicine I would have been six feet under a very long time ago. I used to have to get shots every month. It was. . . unpleasant," Lupin tells me quietly and I soon learn not to bring it up seeing as I risk threatening, deathly looks from everyone in the room, along with an uncomfortable and uncharacteristic silence from Lupin. Despite this, however, he has an astounding wit and is the most sarcastic person I've ever had the fortune to meet. And ladies: with his brown hair and the tall, long frame he isn't so bad on the eyes either.

Lastly, Peter Pettigrew completed the four when the trio were teenagers. The slightly fat but eager drummer, who charmed people with his baby face, but never quite thought himself in the same league, talent-wise, as with his friends. Pettigrew however is a taboo subject with the group — when I bring up his switch to the DeathEaters Rock group when they were nineteen, the room seems to dim, goes _very_ quiet and Potter gets up to make tea. Black hastily mutters something about needing to go to the bathroom and Lupin simply coughs and intently examines the wallpaper. The girls in the room however are almost mutinous, MacDonald looking up sharply and glaring so fiercely I begin to feel my face melting off. Evans shot me a glance of almost pure loathing which then switched to disappointment and I feel like I have let the whole world down because Evans just has that effect on you and McKinnon tells me to (and I quote precisely) "Fuck off and don't mention that wormy asshole near me again. Or I'll chuck you out." And stalks like a blonde panther from the room, returning with Potter, the tea, and a sense of utter unapologetic-ness.

So yes; the scandal of Peter Pettigrew leaving _The Marauders_ for the _DeathEaters_ was a scandalous scandal of the biggest kind when it happened two years ago. And it actually found Black and Pettigrew having a fist fight in the parking lot of a local pub, for which Pettigrew tried to press charges of the loss of a fingernail.        

However, they were The Marauders, known for being signed to Hogwarts Records when they were all just seventeen and unknowing in the fact that they were about to become international sensations just less than four months. So when Pettigrew left, they carried on through and barely lost their momentum, just getting Lupin or Potter to occasionally play the drums when necessary ("Couldn't be arsed to learn myself," adds Black). Their hits have spanned far and wide with "Runnin' round after Dark" and "Wishing on Flying Motorbikes" and utterly _smashing_ records as both were in the top spots for a little over two months each. Now, all at twenty-one, they've had three hit albums and twelve number one singles. There has been much talk of an indictment into the Rock hall of fame.

 

But of course this six wouldn't be completed without everybody's favourite girls.

-

You might remember the two-some that burst onto the scene at only sixteen years old.

Severus Snape and Lily Evans were quite the pair after all. Evans was raised by parents who didn't really know — or care — that much about rock music until their daughter announced proudly at eleven that she had been signed to a development deal at Hogwarts Records due to a secret interview she had done a few weeks earlier. "They were bewildered, but pleased," she tells me.

 

Snape however, refuses to talk about his home life and only snappily stated in an interview three years ago that, "My father and mother fought much. And we didn't have a lot of money. Now stop asking me questions about it."

The teenage duo rose to significant prominence with their hit single "You're a Witch" and then shortly released their album 'Meet you by the Swings' when they were both fifteen.

 

Now, you will all surely remember the Feud.

 

When asked about the fights between The Marauders and Lily & Snape, everybody has something to say. But the facts are that Snape eventually brutally left Evans right in the middle of their national tour for a solo deal with the record label, The Dark Lord, causing Evans to have to cancel all remaining shows and retreat from public life.

 

"Snape's a git," Lupin says, scarily calm.

 

"Snape, that _fucking —,_ " Black then goes into a rant about loyalty and with a chill that scrapes down my spine, I remember that his own younger brother Regulus Black had signed to the same label (which also owns the DeathEaters) until he was killed in a car crash days after his first show a handful of years ago.

 

"He is deluded. Entirely an idiot. That is all," curtly comments MacDonald, whom Evans met and then quickly joined with after Snape left her to form their now famous group _The Mudbloods._ Which since, has had hit singles such as, 'In the War', 'Your Dark Magic' and 'I Am What I Want' from their albums 'Wanted for my Blood' and "I'm on Trial".

 

McKinnon doesn't say anything, despite taking on the role as manager of Snape and Lily even though she was only sixteen herself. I gladly don't push the subject with her. McKinnon could probably scare God without even trying.

 

"I don't want to talk about Sev — Snape," says Evans evenly, and Black tugs a bright red curl in a rare sign of companionship.

 

"I don't want to talk about Snape either," snaps Potter, uncharacteristically malicious.

 

The brawl between The Marauders and Lily & Snape made international headlines when Snape called Potter "a spoilt brat who has only made it this far because of his rich-bitch parents" and Potter immediately retaliated by saying that "Snape needs to wash his hair. I can't possibly understand what he's saying with _that_ much grease dripping into his mouth."

 

Potter also had a rather public thing for Evans, way back in god-knows-when. Their fights actually became a rock legend when Evans once punched Potter in the middle of the street when he attempted to ask her if she wanted to do a song (or, as the internet gossip sites prefer to say, _snog_ ) with him. Our dearest Evans, screaming like a banshee for half of London to hear, yelled, "POTTER, YOU ABSOLUTE, COMPLETE, ARROGANT _TOE RAG_ , DON'T TALK TO ME!" before she stormed away, leaving a dazed Potter behind with a bloody broken nose.

 

Potter stubbornly refused to give it up and made it very public of his interest in collaborating with Evans, "I like her voice," he once said in an interview, "Her voice is the best thing I've ever heard — aside from my own, of course." Smirk. (At the time of that interview he was still slightly full of himself, he now admits).

 

Evans said, bitingly, when she was quoted that very line in a separate interview, "I wouldn't collaborate with Potter if it was a choice between him and Giant Squid." _Smirk._

 

This then caused a massive uproar of rage from Giant Squid fans and Evans had to issue a public apology to the fifty year old band, who were touring at the time through nursing homes around the country.      

 

Everyone was picking sides and tearing posters and suddenly the Potter versus Evans will-they-collaborate-debate was the Biggest Thing in music. A nineteen year old Evans weighed in on the subject when _The Mudblood's_ first album went platinum right in its first month, saying: "It's a wonder Potter can even fit his head in a sound booth, it's so big. I don't want to discuss it. He makes me sick."

 

So how did we get here, two years after that, making a collaboration album with the person she so loudly claimed "makes me want to poke myself in the eye with the nearest stick"?

 

"Money," Evans says simply, and a bit of a smile, "Hogwarts (records) thought that the publicity and the sales on the album would be phenomenal, and I was pressured into it, basically. But it's fine now," she rushes to add after a hurt look from Lupin, "really, it's all good. Making the album is going to be an absolute dream."

 

 

Speaking of the album, the time limit is crazy. Most musicians have years to create and write their songs before releasing them, but this time? They've got three months. Yup, three months to plan, write and record the album before they're on the shelves for the public. When I asked group's manager Marlene McKinnon why the limit so was small she said, in her husky voice, "Sales are higher in October and we needed to cash in the whole Feud thing before people realise that they don't really hate each other that much anymore."

 

Right then. Three months, to make an album it is.

 

***

 

_Your eyes are roses_

_your heart is gold_

_please don't wake up_

_and leave me alone_

(Written by Lily Evans, on Mary MacDonald's back after she passed out drunk)

 

///

 

This article will be on going and will be a weekly feature in Rolling Stone unless otherwise stated.

 


	2. We Don't Mention Bee's In Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of yelling, also, hospitals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for tumblr user thatdaisyflowergirl, here is the long awaited update and I am very glad that you like it so far :)
> 
> betaed by the bae Andy

_Kissing makes me feel less empty_

_please let's do it some more_

(Written by Sirius Black, on the studio door handle)

 

***

 

I join the group after they've been together for two weeks already, so everybody already knows each other and doesn't want to rip each other's throats out (as much). It's noon. Lupin is rhythmically tapping a tune on his leg while Potter and Black lazily strum on guitars, bickering with Evans. The notes hang in the air for seconds too long as MacDonald scribbles possible lyrics on McKinnon's arm.

 

Marlene McKinnon, while we're on the subject, is probably the scariest person I have ever met.

 

Raised by her Aunt after her parents passed away at the age of twelve, she started managing 'Snape & Lily' because (a) Lily was her friend and (b), "I was bored," she says flatly. When I point out that she decided to manage an internationally known band at the age of fifteen just because she was _bored_ , she gives me a look that could melt iron. "Yeah. What about it?" Is all she says and I don't understand how someone so pretty can look so terrifying.

 

And McKinnon is undeniably pretty, even by the high standards of this room. Her dirty blonde hair used to be long until recently, and when I ask about it the room suddenly, very suspiciously, quiets and I spot Marlene as she shoots daggers at Potter and Black — who suddenly turn blind and loudly begin discussing the weather (more on this later). I have not, at this point, ever seen her in anything other than shorts and a bra because she "doesn't do shirts". The blue eyes that sit on top of her high, angular cheekbones are utterly terrifying when looking at you full on, yet from the side they seem a perfectly innocent baby blue and almost endearing. A rumour went around once that she killed a man for cheating on her when she was eighteen and when I first meet her, arms covered in Mary's scribbles, I believe it.

 

She now manages both 'The Marauders' and the 'Mudblood's' which for the former is an entirely new experience as before her presence, Lupin would simply just scribble down where they were meant to be and drag a hungover Potter and an unconscious Black out of bed by their shirt collars.

 

"Usually always twenty minutes late and a little drunk," Lupin says flatly. Black raises himself from the argument he's having with Evans to retaliate, "Not true. We were always _very_ drunk when we turned up for gigs."

 

 

The night before my first day, I see why. Because I have never seen so much hard liquor in all my life, all on one little table. MacDonald had cheerfully grabbed a bottle of Vodka and within half an hour later she was dancing on the table, loudly proclaiming her undying love for the microphone stand. Evans downed more beer than anyone currently alive and challenged an equally pissed Black to an arm wrestling competition to which she lost no less than twenty seven times before passing out. Potter ended up sitting on my legs and descriptively telling me about his childhood pet hamster Elvendork who tragically ran away when he was seven. McKinnon kept it classy by drinking all the bottles of wine available and then promptly taking up Lupins dare to make out with the mannequin in the corner (affectionately nicknamed Jo), which she does with relish.

 

 

On my first morning with the group I wake up at 11 A.M, with the worst hangover I've ever had choking up my lungs and suffocating my windpipe — before I realize Black's kneecap is in my mouth. Evans is dead asleep on the sound system and everybody in the group is groggily sitting awake, trying to decide on who should wake her up.

 

Lupin is eventually pulled to his feet and shoved forward while everyone else cowers in the corner as he prods her, clearly terrified, with the mic stand MacDonald was groping with such enthusiasm last night, and I see why his fear is present a minute later when Evans vigorously wrenches the mic stand from him and throws it at the studio door with a scream of "FUCK _OFF_ , DICKHEADS," to which approximately everyone takes this as their cue to let her sleep a little longer.

 

***

 

Watching the song writing take place is truly a sight to behold.

 

Normally they base it off MacDonald's scribbled lyrics, which are normally found anywhere but a piece of paper (I've been here a day and I've seen her writing on people, bathroom walls, microphones, and once, the group microwave). Then, these are put to one of Lupins' tapped out beats and it begins. Black takes up resident screamer, as he yells at anyone about anything and everything (usually McKinnon or Lupin), and it comes to a point where he and MacDonald are arguing about the merits of referencing 'bees' in a song.

 

" _Bees_ so do rhyme with _please_ I just do _not_ understand why we can't just RHYME THEM TOGETHER!"

 

"WE ARE _NOT_ SAYING THE WORD 'BEES' AT ALL ON THE ALBUM. EVER."

 

"THAT IS THE MOST NARROW MINDED THING I'VE EVER HEARD. IN MY LIFE. EVER."

 

This continues until Evans, (now awake and filled with so much coffee it's a wonder she's standing upright) with the help of Potter, puts Black into a headlock while MacDonald is lead from the room, still screeching, by Lupin. McKinnon sits on the couch with her black coffee, looking vaguely bored and pissed off.

 

The lyrics eventuate into _Please, please, please / don't go away / breathing gets hard if you don't stay,_ towhich Black reluctantly agrees is much better off without the bees reference.

 

Then someone points out that 'Jo' ( the aforementioned mannequin) is missing and everyone takes a break to search. Potter appears to nearly be in tears and when I ask whether the mannequin meant a lot to him, he says, "No. But she was wearing my jacket. It's my best one."

 

This comment makes Evans roll her eyes so hard that it's a wonder they don't roll all the way out.

 

***

 

After searching for at least an hour, the mannequin has still not been found. I privately blame McKinnon, as she was making out with it last. MacDonald obviously thinks the same thing as she makes a comment public and nearly causes a second brawl. McKinnon goes outside to smoke a cigarette and calm down, taking Evans with her.

 

It's now three o'clock and everyone's so hungry that Lupin is eyeing Potters arm with an unsettling interest. I am tasked with getting food for everyone and naturally, no one has paper so I am reading the list of food off various body parts. After I read nearly the whole McDonalds menu of my person, the baffled looking teenager at the counter informs me that they don't in fact sell, nor have they ever, a 'vodka and strawberry milkshake'. I shakily imagine myself telling McKinnon this news on the way home. That turns out to be the least of my worries however, as in my forty minute absence everyone has lost their minds.

 

Evans is being restrained by both McKinnon and Lupin when I walk in while Potter is being held back by a struggling MacDonald. Black is just standing in the middle of both doing a lot of excited yelling.

 

I ascertain from Evans's outraged screaming that Potter has criticised her lyric writing ability, or in her words, "FUCKED ME OVER, YOU FUCKING FUCKER." However, she had moments before told him that he needed to stop touching his hair because it's distracting, which is the same as telling him he is a worthless piece of trash (according to MacDonald).

 

To everyone's horror and surprise Evans breaks free from her captors in an admirable fashion (biting McKinnon and kicking Lupin in the nuts) and charges at Potter still roaring. I see the meaning of true fear in MacDonald's eyes as self-preservation kicks in and she abandons Potter a minute later, running to hide behind the couch with me.

 

Potter towers over the 5'4" Evans, not that it matters, as they are both screaming equally loud and incoherent things.

 

"I THINK YOU'RE A —,"

 

"— EVERYTHING YOU SAY IS EMBARSSING AND DISGRACEFUL TO —,"

 

"THATS NOT WHAT YOUR GRANDMA SAID LAST NIGHT —"

 

"SUCK. MY. DICK." (this comes, oddly, from Evans)

 

Black is the only one brave (and stupid) enough to approach, and for his efforts Potter and Evans both simultaneously punch him in the jaw.

 

***

 

Forty-five minutes later I am sitting in the emergency room between MacDonald and a man with half a nose, who introduces himself as Mad-Eye and tells me repeatedly, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!". I am tired, cold and feel like I have run a mile even though it's only five-thirty and barley twenty-four hours since I arrived.

 

Evans is pacing back and forth worriedly, Potter is saying that Black will be fine in an vain attempt to calm her, and McKinnon and Lupin are playing go fish with the snap cards they found in the kids' play area. MacDonald has her feet up on the seat and is trying to break into the private hospital WiFi so she can play Draw Something with her boyfriend Archie MacMillan, who is in America for school.

 

***

 

Mary MacDonald looks like she's all fun and games with her shoulder length, soft brown hair and freckles, but trust me, she means _business_. She has four sisters and three brothers and so knows how to fight for her own and she _will_ punch you if you comment on her Hello Kitty phone case. She had never been in a band before she and Evans formed 'Mudblood's', although she'd been playing the drums since age nine.

 

While we wait, she tells me an bizarre story of how her older brother had once hidden her drumsticks in the toilet bowl because she wouldn't stop playing and to get him back she forced her youngest sister pee on his bed. I feel like I may be dreaming and my hangover has only gotten worse because of the three brawls I have witnessed today alone.

 

I don't know how I'm going to do this for the next two and a half months.

 

I am considering throwing up when Black emerges, hands in the air, and Evans pounces, saying how sorry she is and how she didn't mean to as though she hadn't been saying it the whole way over on the car ride here.

Black, abruptly halfway through the ride home becomes very happy for someone who nearly broke his jaw. When I ask him why, he smiles widely and shows me a piece of paper he had found moments prior in his jeans back pocket.

 

_You know, you look exactly like Stubby Boardman!_

_Give me a call sometime, babe,_

_(Your nurse) Doris Purkis 6359900 xxx_

 

"Whose Stubby Boardman?" I inquire, curious and impressed.

 

He grins.

 

"No bloody idea."

 

***

_My mind is cracking_

_Pull me out, please_

(Written by Remus Lupin, on the couch arm.)


	3. I'm Going To Need A New Liver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn more about the famous Black/Potter friendship and talk about being drunk, also, pencil throwing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Andy's bae, Harrison. If you are reading this I want you to know that Andy DOES NOT think that you are a trash can. But don't tell her i told you that.

_If I am a disappointment to you_

_I am fucking glad_

(Written by Sirius Black, on the back of the pizza menu)

***

A week in and I finally understand the routine.

 

Wake up at midday. Be hung over. Take aspirin. Eat leftover takeout for breakfast. Inhale coffee. DO NOT have to be the one to wake Evans up. Write lyrics. Argue. Write music. Argue. Late lunch. Argue while eating. Record part of song written that day. Argue. Someone storms out. More song writing. Said Someone storms back in. Everyone decides that song/music written and/or recorded today is crap. Scrap all days' work. Yet more yelling. Play drinking game. Get plastered. Fall asleep on the floor with at least three people on top of you. Repeat.   

 

The drinking games.

 

Good God _,_ the _drinking games._   

 

They are purely hell on earth and I'm pretty sure I've lost nine years off my life by now — but I can't seem to stop playing them.

 

First there is the vowel drinking game. Drink for however many vowels there are in the word you just said.

 

Black, being the biggest talker, takes mere minutes to get hammered while with McKinnon, it could take days. Then there is the chess game, in which someone will play chess with Lupin and for every time he sighs, a shot must be administered by all. Everyone gets drunk easily as no one other than Lupin actually knows how to play chess. Lupin is unaware of this fact. Do not tell him it will spoil the fun. 

 

Or maybe it's the MacDonald writing game. Which is a drink for each line of song lyrics on your person. This one is fun for all as MacDonald will write on anyone from a squirming Potter to a foul-mouthed McKinnon and will write absolutely _anywhere._ So far we've found words scribbled on Black's neck, Potter's nose, McKinnon's kneecap, Lupin's torso and the top of Evans boobs, which Potter spent a rather long time 'reading'. 

  

Then there is the group favourite, quaintly known as the Potter-Is-Vain-As-Fuck-Let's-Get-Smashed-Game. This game and its title was actually invented by Evans the first night they were all here and basically involves a shot for every time Potter runs his hand through his hair, throws and catches a baseball, or starts any sentence with "I think...". The real fun in it all is that Potter has no idea that game actually exists so is persistently confused at why we all take a shot every time he moves his hand toward his head.

 

At this point you are all surely wondering where we actually live. Well, we all live, quite literally, in the studio. All clothes are dumped in the left corner, we take showers at the gas station down the road, and eat at crappy nearby fast food outlets. I haven't left the studio to sleep in a real bed for two weeks, and everyone else has been here for four. Late night song writing is common and you will often wake in the night for a drink to see someone writing something down on another sleeping person or practising an instrument quietly.

 

But I have to wonder why they (me) don't just go their paid for hotels? Surely it would be better for the sound equipment and for our livers?

 

"We all have separate rooms," explains Black, "being all together is just. .  . more fun." I ask Evans what she thinks later. When I tell her Black's reply I get a snort.

 

"It's not as buddy-buddy as that. For one, the hotel's an hour and a bit away and people kept busting into other people's room for the first couple of days with song ideas. Also, Black slept with the receptionist on our first night, so there's that. It's really just easier to sleep here. It's fully booked for us for the whole three months, and so no one else is using it. And the whole getting drunk thing is just for fun. We're all hardcore drinkers." She smiles. "Wanna cookie?"

 

I pass on the cookie and am thankful I did a moment later when Lupin comes in and informs us that the cookies have been in his suitcase for around three years and whoever has taken them needs to immediately throw up like, right now.     

 

While Evans is trying to discretely vomit the contents of her stomach into the tiny bathroom, Black and Potter are playing the guitar and reading the lyric scrawled by MacDonald on Potters forearm ( _I love you / I love you / I love you / but it's not enough)_ and trying to fit it to music. Potter is chewing on his lower lip and muttering while Black looks like the most handsome king of the world, leaning against the couch with his guitar on his lap, an unlit cigarette in between his teeth. You can tell that they have been doing this for years and that they're good at it. By God, they're good at it.

 

***

 

James Potter and Sirius Black are two of the most well known and attractive people on the planet. And they can _sing_ too. Like angels. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

 

They met in the train to boarding school when they were eleven and, "Were instant friends," says Potter.

 

"Well," admits Black, "I thought you were a bit of a git," without a trace of a joke in his voice.

"I still think you're a bit of git," confesses Potter, sincerely. Black grins. Potter grins. _Bloody hell,_ did I mention _attractive_?

***

They were widely known at school for wreaking havoc, and before I became a full time live in member at Studio Dé Drunk I spoke to one of their teachers, math professor, Minerva McGonagall, "Absolute hooligans. The pair of them, utterly mad. Ridiculous really, that they were so brilliant as well. Never failed a test and once, they plastered my whole classroom with cat pictures. Everywhere. All of the same cat. God, it was ghastly, gave the whole troupe detention for a month. Ridiculous boys." I then asked whether she was glad that they'd done so well and she looked highly affronted. "Of course I'm glad they're successful! They were two of my favourite students! Honestly, 'am I glad they were successful'...good God! I liked them very much, for heavens' sake. . ."

 

She then offered me a gingernut.

 

Potter and Black had lead the crew very successfully throughout school and became immensely popular doing so, adored by students and teachers alike. They left with their record deal at seventeen with the full knowledge that they had once replaced every text book in the school with a paper mâché version of themselves sticking their tongues out.

 

Naturally, when they hit the big time, they ruffled a few feathers.

 

Lucius Malfoy stated in an article in _Malfoy Minute:_ "The Marauders are a disgrace to the name of rock music. Potter, with his huge ego, prances around like the king of the world, while Black covers the necessity of a good singing voice with nice hair. Lupin seems barely interested in his bass playing while Pettigrew is bumbling around after the three like an over-excited groupie. I sincerely hope this 'band' is a passing fad." Needless to say, it wasn't. However others praised their new sound and Bertrum Abrey of _Head Twice The Size_ magazine commented, "Utterly phenomenal, the band is something of brilliance live. Pettigrew and Lupin thrashing away, perfectly in time while Black runs about the stage like a mad rabbit, taking his shirt off within minutes and making the three girls next to me simultaneously pass out. Potter crooning into the microphone _You are more than this, you are more than this, you are more than this,_ like he means it. A pure spectacle to watch. I expect great things in the future."

Meanwhile, at the time there were multiple reports of Potters' big head, which Lupin weighed in on three years ago, at eighteen,

 

"James knows what he's good at. Sometimes he can come off as a bit of a prat. He's working on it and he will get there. Do not ever underestimate James Potter." Naturally Potter's 'big head' came under even more public scrutiny during the Potter vs Evans debate that had the world split down the middle.

 

To quote, "James Potter is a _total_ arse. Don't talk to me about him, or I might just have to throw myself into the nearest lake," said Evans, two years ago.

 

I remind Evans of this comment and to my surprise she looks rather... well, _guilty_.

 

"I did not know Potter well enough at the time to make that judgment," she states while googling cookie expiration dates on the floor. "I was... misinformed of his character at that time. I would like to retract that statement."

 

"Is this you apologising to me, Evans?" asks Potter from the opposite end of the — albeit small — room.

 

She smiles. "Maybe. Don't let it get to your head."

 

He grins and winks at her. She throws a nearby pencil at him in response. Believe it or not, this is probably the nicest exchange I've witnessed between any of them since I got here.

 

But back to the main ' _bromance_ ' (a phrase Tumblr user 'mymomsc0ck' informed me actually exists). Black and Potter being the actual definition of this word according to Urban Dictionary which they find extraordinarily funny and everyone else finds utterly bemusing. An example of a classic Black/Potter chat is this gem I witnessed last night.

 

“Prongs, don't touch my video game I'm going to the bathroom”

“Whatever”

Black leaves.

Potter starts giggling, runs to Black’s video game and promptly starts taking selfies of himself playing it.

Screaming erupts from the bathroom.

 

***

 

It seems ridiculous, but Lupin and MacDonald will bear witness and Black has also printed out the selfie and stuck it on the mini-fridge with the word BETRAYAL written in intimidating red marker and all caps at the bottom of the page. Potter beams like a ray of sunshine every time he passes it.

 

A friendship of the history books, I'm sure of it.

 

_***_

_You look at me like that and_

_God,_

_I want you to be my forever_

(Written by James Potter, on the empty cookie packet)

 

 

 


	4. Everything Goes To Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all go to get food, or, we end up in jail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit, sorry this took so long, also, this is for tumblr user @pajoje because shes amAZING
> 
> props to andy for putting up with this WEIRD chapter

_Sitting next to you_

_I can hear colours_

_please sit here a little longer_

(Written by Mary MacDonald, on the lamp shade)

***

Today we are going shopping because the Chinese place down the road has banned us, as they think we are inducing to much sodium and the nearest McDonald's has started asking if we want the usual order delivered.

 

We need to get outside, like, now.

 

First we need to acquire a car, as no one except McKinnon actually has one on hand. McKinnon flat out refuses to lend her car to anyone, and refuses to have a negotiation on the subject — so Evans sits her down tries to talk to her reasonably.

 

"Please let us use the car," is the first plead.

 

"No."

 

" _Please_ , Mar."

 

"No."

 

"Just let us use the fucking car."

 

"Hmmmm… Still no."

 

"We are taking the fucking car."

 

This comes from Potter, who has taken the keys while McKinnon was distracted and chucked them to MacDonald, who is sprinting toward the tiny Ford like she is running for her life. A second later she really is because McKinnon is running after her, or was, until Lupin leapt from the bushes and tackled her to the ground. Black and Evans are searching for the keys to lock up when Potter steps out to help Lupin hold down a screaming McKinnon who is attempting to bite his head off and swear profusely at the same time.   

 

Good times, good times.

 

When I ask (once we are all in the car) why one of us can't just go I am informed that no one actually wants to go at all but they need food, so they're all going as compromise. I fear that this compromise will end in our arrest.

 

MacDonald is sitting on Lupin's lap in the passenger seat and attempting to FaceTime her boyfriend (aforementioned Archie MacMillan) using 3G. McKinnon punched Black when he suggested she sit on his lap, so she's in the middle and Black is on her left and holding his jaw (one of these days he really will break it). Evans is driving and Potter is telling her where to go, or rather, _fucking everything up._

 

"Go left."

 

"I can't!"

 

"Yes you can, the map says _go left._ "

 

Evans sighs. "Two things, Potter. One: I cannot go left because I will run into that cow paddock, and two: that is a map of Puerto Rico."

 

"Ah." 

 

We arrive an hour later to the supermarket that is twenty minutes away. In the longest hour of my life to date I have witnessed an old person hitting the bonnet of our car with a walking stick when Evans nearly runs her over, Potter seeing a spider on his seatbelt and elbowing McKinnon in the nose in his panic, McKinnon taking the spider and putting it on his leg as payback, Lupin having to intervene by swapping seats with McKinnon so McDonald is now on her lap and everybody in the vicinity shouting at MacDonald because she and her boyfriend were playing the "No-you-hang-up-first" game.

 

Exhibit A:

 

" _No_ , you hang up fir —"

 

"OH NO —" (wise words spoken by me)

 

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD —" (Lupin)

 

"FUCKING HELL —" (Black)

 

"I WILL SHOVE THAT PHONE UP YOUR —" (McKinnon)

 

"MACDONALD I'M GONNA —" (Evans)

 

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU CAN HANG UP —" (Potter)

 

"SHUT _UP,_ YOU LITTLE —" (the driver next to us)

 

We arrive in orderly fashion, get trolleys and divide into groups. Lupin with Black, who isn't talking to McKinnon after the punching incident, MacDonald with Potter, who isn't talking to McKinnon after the spider incident and Evans with McKinnon herself, who isn't talking to anybody because of the car incident. All in all it's one o'clock, we haven't eaten all day and nobody is speaking to anybody else. Now, who said Rock 'n' Roll wasn't hardcore?

 

I wander around bumping into everybody else while trying to find as many sleeping pills as they can legally sell to one person (they won't sell any, the ones I want (cough, need) are prescription). MacDonald and Potter are in the tampon aisle where Potter is looking enthralled by his sneakers as an uncaring MacDonald empties the nearly the whole aisle into their trolley, then flips off an old man who is staring on in shock from the cat-food section.

 

I find Black and Lupin in the confectionary aisle where Lupin has acquired as much chocolate as is legal while Black signs a shirt for a fan and grins, making the girl nearly lose the toothpaste she's holding. When she leaves Black attempts to climb into the trolley, Lupin grabs him by the collar while still reading the back of the Cadburys' finest. He is clearly used to this.

 

McKinnon and Evans are by the fish section, sitting on the floor reading magazines. Well, Evans is, McKinnon seems to be trying to have a staring contest with the fishmonger who looks utterly terrified. He looks even more so when an ungodly scream pierces the ears of everyone in the quiet supermarket, sending the _OK_ I'm browsing falling to the floor in shock. Evans is running toward the source before I even understand what's happening while McKinnon has grabbed the startled fishmonger knife and is sprinting after her. I follow at a safe distance.

 

We arrive in the Frozen Food aisle to see MacDonald screaming her head off at who appears to be Archie MacMillan, who turns out not to be at school in America after all, but in fact right here in this very supermarket with a barely clothed blonde looking equally uncomfortable next to him. Potter has pinned a hysterical MacDonald  to the frozen chicken freezer when Black and Lupin sped onto the scene, Black is in the trolley Lupin is pushing and holding a baguette like a sword. McKinnon is brandishing her knife. Evans is yelling and trying to ascertain what the hell is going on. MacDonald  is crying and screaming and sniffling. Potter looks strained. Lupin looks alarmed. MacMillan and the blonde continue to look uncomfortable. The whole thing sounds a lot like this:

 

"YOU LYING, CHEATING, —" shrieks MacDonald, her voice reaching an unnaturally high pitch and threatening to crack. Black lifts himself out of the trolley with elegant, lazy precision and shoves his way through the stampede to her side.

 

"Mary what is going on —" begins Evans.

 

"MacDonald you need to calm the f — _shit_! MY EYE!"

 

This very loud exclamation of pain has been caused by MacDonald grabbing the baguette from Lupin. She is repeatedly thwacking Potter while still crying and yelling.

 

"MARY, STOP," begins Lupin, as he tries to grab hold of her flailing arms while eyeing the lost baguette with a sad gleam in his eye.

 

"...SAID YOU **_WERE IN AMERICA_** YOU —"

 

"Mary, I — I didn't know how to tell you. . . " trails off Archie, leaning back slightly from the vaguely barbaric scene in front of him.

           

"DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO TELL ME!" MacDonald shrieks, her voice so high it's a wonder how I can hear it at all.

 

At this point, MacDonald has viciously broken free and lunged, nails outstretched, at MacMillan, but she's too late considering Remus Lupin has gotten there first.

 

"Arse," he spits, before reaching back and punching him in the nose. Mary leaps on MacMillan while he's down and they are now both rolling around on the floor. I fear for my life as McKinnon is still waving around the knife, Potter is yelling at Evans who is yelling at him for letting Mary go, Black is congratulating Lupin on his excellent punch while the blonde is yelling at the still hysterical Mary, who is continuing to try to pummel MacMillan on the floor. I don't think I'll be able to write much more as everyone is fighting and yelling and someone might take my pe—

 

***

Right. So now we're in jail. 

          

***

_I don't love you_

_but I could_

_if it meant you wouldn't leave_

(Written by Lily Evans, in red lipstick on the bathroom mirror)

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Sirius Black has been to prison before pass it on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of prison, also hugging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am terrible just forgive me for this long awaited update ok i suck

 

_You cheating bastard / I hope you rot in hell / you were never good to me / please fall down a well_

(Written by Sirius Black, on the freezer doors after Mary MacDonald screamed it)

 

***

 

Before today I had never been arrested, never been pulled over, and only gotten two speeding tickets over the whole course of my twenty-one years. I didn't have a record and the only time anyone ever took my fingerprints was when the police came to talk to us at Girl Guides when I was seven and that was about dog safety. Before today, no one even knew me at the police station, and if they had been asked who I was — they would say they had never heard of me.

 

But that was before today.

 

Because, right now, I am in jail.

 

***

 

As you can probably gather, things went downhill pretty rapidly after my pen was taken from me by Black, who wanted to write a lyric on the freezer doors. I honestly couldn't explain him if I tried. An alarmed cashier had called the police and when they arrived, minutes after I lost my pen, they saw:

 

(a). A scary looking girl waving around a knife

 

(b).Two attractive blokes trying to pry a screaming brunette off a terrified looking guy on the ground and

 

(c).A redhead nearly coming to blows with a bloke whose hair should probably have its own passport. Oh, and a blonde girl screaming her head off.

 

Needless to say, we were incarcerated.

 

Though we didn't go down quietly, it took three officers to take McKinnon and she ends up in solitary 'thinking about her actions' (surely I am not alone scoffing at this). Evans is sitting next to a still crying MacDonald whose boyfriend wasn't in America for school at all, rather having lied to her thinking they would eventually drift apart so he wouldn't have to break up with her. He was, in fact, face timing her yesterday from the blonde (a.k.a. his new girlfriends') house. He is "An insufferable asshole, who doesn't deserve you," as Evans is putting it. Black is talking to a guard about prison food, apparently he has been in a cell before.Take from that what you will. Potter is siting as far away from Evans as possible as both are still not speaking after the supermarket fight while Lupin is talking to the blonde who is sniffling. Archie MacMillan is currently in hospital with minor injuries, I'm told.

 

Sleeping in prison, (yes _sleeping,_ we've been here overnight) is not as bad as you might think and we are released at noon, having slept in actual beds and not being horrifically drunk. I count this whole experience actually, as one of the better days. We wait for McKinnon in the lobby as she has to sign more papers in order to be released from solitary. Lupin asks if he should call a cab. We all take a moment to remember the ride over here. We agree that the cab is the right choice.

 

McKinnon is released and we all climb into separate cabs, girls in one and boys in the other because the last thing we need is Potter and Evans associating. In the girls cab the ride involves a lot of crying (MacDonald), reassuring (Evans) and not caring (McKinnon). When we arrive back at the studio its one o'clock and I have heard the sentence "You're too good for him" so many times I am mouthing the words myself involuntary when we walk in.

 

No one is here. Not that that stops McKinnon, who is on the phone to every publicist and newspaper in the world, and possibly the universe, doing damage control on the whole 'getting arrested' thing.

 

Half and hour later the boys stumble in wearing no shirts and pale faces. Apparently their cab broke down and some fans found them. Also some criminals, according to Black, because his wallet is missing. Upon later questioning we discover that these 'criminals' is actually just Potter, who has taken £20 from Lupins back pocket too. MacDonald has locked herself in the bathroom and is refusing to come out, so Evans is telling her what a douchebag MacMillan is through the key hole. 

 

I kinda wanna go back to jail.

 

McKinnon walks in fifteen minutes after the boys do, having been outside on her phone since we got back. "The press don't have word of the story," she informs me when I ask if we will see our faces in the paper tomorrow, "Turns out little MacMillan has a rich Daddy, who's paid everyone through the nose to keep quiet or he'll sue. Obviously doesn't want everyone knowing his son's a cheating bastard," she finishes bitterly.

 

"YEAH!" shrieks MacDonald tearfully from the bathroom, causing everyone to jump in surprise.

 

Lupin then decides that we need to do some actual work so we're right back to it, Black writing on Potter's arm as Lupin talks about the bridge of a new song ( _Seventeen)_ with McKinnon, who is the only manager I know who actually helps write lyrics and music. Evans and MacDonald are both absent, as both are still in or outside the bathroom. I eat a piece of three day old pizza off the floor and tell Potter that his lyric _got arrested by frozen foods / but the police guy was a cool dude_ is shitty. I feel like I'm part of the team, and it's nice.

        

MacDonald emerges, an hour and a half later, red eyed and being held up by a weary Evans who looks so done with the universe you can actually feel her not giving a fuck anymore. The room is still, Black gets up and gives MacDonald a hug and she folds into him, silent but aching. It makes my chest hurt and I'm not the only one, as Potter is on his feet next, followed by Lupin and they all crowd around MacDonald like they are trying to protect her. It is the nicest thing I've ever seen. Evans and McKinnon are having some sort of stare off, with Evans eyeballing McKinnon like she's trying to force her into confession. McKinnon seems equally determined but, as previously mentioned, Evans no longer gives any fucks, so is more dangerous. Maybe that is why McKinnon walks to MacDonald and hugs her quickly, so quickly MacDonald is still is shock when she recedes back to the couch. Everyone is staring at her and Lupin has his mouth open. McKinnon glares at everyone and flips Lupin off. We're back to normal.

 

Then we sit down. And we _write._ And so far from what I've said, it doesn't look like these people are all that serious about what they do, but they _are._ You can see it when Evans is holding a pen and when Lupin is fiddling with his guitar pick. They're all are so young and so sure. Sure that _this_ is what they want and you can feel it in the air when they sing and in the words they write. Like it's settled inside their lungs and leaks from their lips and fingertips because they are electric. There is a reason why they are considered the best. Watching them together makes your fingernails turn blue because of all of the talent and heart and _want. God,_ they want it so much. No one here just woke up one day and decided that this was just the place to be. It was ingrained in their skin cells that this was what they needed. These kids are the most talented people I've ever interviewed and they are all only _twenty-one_. My age. They fucking _own_ this. They always have.

 

These ladies are iron. They are people made of diamonds and sea glass and I am madly in love with each of them. They are not here to make you like them, they are not here to sell their music, they are here to _do_ their music. They will not sit down and take your bullshit, they take _no one_ _’_ _s_ bullshit. Lily Evans has your blood on her hair, Marlene McKinnon is wearing your veins as a necklace and Mary MacDonald is holding your ribs and writing song lyrics on them with a pen she took from your back pocket. They are so _sick_ of being seen as pretty faces with long lashes, because they are so much more than that. They will wear black eyeliner if they fucking want to, who cares whether you like it? They like it. And that's enough.

 

 

If the girls are iron, the boys are steel. They want your respect and they fucking deserve it. They are not young, stupid kids who got lucky. No. They are people who are talented and smart, who know what they want. This is a feat in itself, because finding what you want is hard, and to actually be good at it is even harder. They will not sit down and wait their turn while older, 'more experienced' people take things that they deserve. They did that already, they sat in class and waited as long as they could. So yeah, if they're better than you are, they will take that gig or that contract. Get over it. They are done waiting and will not be small and stupid so people older than them can feel big. It is not a 'rebellious phase'. It is the life changing realisation that they don't have be treated like shit because they are half your age. James Potter's name is a swear word on your tongue, Sirius Black's voice is lightning whispering in your ears and Remus Lupin's drum playing will colour your closed eyelids. They have this down.

 

Now move out of their fucking way.

 

Just you watch, because these people are either going to save the world, or ruin it. I swear.

 

At 11 p.m at night we pull up to a retirement home an hour away and Black gets down on one knee and fake proposes to Evans with a plastic ring we bought at a drug store on the way here, in front of 100 adoring old people, all so we could get a free meal because old people eat that crap up.    

 

(Because after all that, we forgot to buy any bloody groceries)

 

***

 

_you are the everything / I want_

(Written by James Potter, on the back of a dentures brochure)


End file.
